


golden boy

by exarite



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Voldemort Wins, Dark, M/M, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, POV Outsider, Public Humiliation, Stockholm Syndrome, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-28 06:04:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17781980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exarite/pseuds/exarite
Summary: They thought Harry Potter was dead.Months after the battle at Hogwarts, the last of the Resistance finally gets captured. Voldemort shows them just how very much alive Harry Potter is.





	golden boy

**Author's Note:**

> i....i can't believe i actually wrote this....
> 
> anyway pls heed warnings. don't read if ur not into this. don't say u weren't warned!!

 

"It's been months, Hermione. You have to accept the facts. Harry is most likely dead."

"No," Hermione refused, her voice cracking. She looked up at them, tears brimming in her blood-shot eyes. None of them have had a proper good night's sleep in weeks, all of them physically, emotionally, and magically drained. The Snatchers and Death Eaters were always hot on their trail no matter what they did, where they went. The remnants of the Resistance were quickly tiring and growing desperate. "If Harry was dead, we would know it."

They pitied her, she could tell. But Hermione didn't care. She knew Harry was alive, knew it like she knew the sun rose in the morning, knew it like she knew that her name was Hermione Granger.

Without doubt. Without question.

 

*

 

_ "Where's Harry?" Hermione asked. No one answered her, their gazes skittering away. Realization came, horror right at its heels, and Ron beat her to it. _

_ "Where is he?" He demanded, straightening up to his full height. He reached out and Hermione took his hand, grasping it tightly in comfort. They had been so preoccupied with each other, so filled with the rush of new love, and now they were feeling the consequences. _

_ "He's gone. He went into the Forest. _ "

 

*

 

All their wards, all the running, and hiding they've been doing… It was only good enough to stall, in the end. Hermione knew from the start that it wouldn't last. It was a fool's errand, and they were fortune's fool indeed.

She observed with a detached numbness as they were led into a large, sprawling room, the only thing in it an opulent throne.

There on the throne was Voldemort himself, and at the sight of him, a surge of hatred and disgust filled her, burning her from the inside out. Hermione quietly seethed. There was a boy kneeling peacefully at his feet and for him, Hermione felt only the barest hints of pity. He was nude except for a golden collar on his throat, the sheen of it bringing out the necklace of bruises he wore. The arch of his neck as he rested his head on Voldemort's thigh was a sensual tease, telling of his contentment and submission.

Voldemort appraised them, his gaze somehow showing how  _ lacking _ he found them.

The last of the Resistance.

"Welcome," he spoke, voice strangely sibilant. He brought his hand down, petting the head of the boy, and ran his pale fingers through messy dark hair. It was uncharacteristically gentle, yet undeniably possessive. "Won't you say hello to your friends, pet?"

The boy looked up then, and Hermione's breath caught, bile rising up the back of her throat at the sight of  _ green _ .

"Harry!" Ginny sobbed, and Voldemort smiled.

 

*

 

_ "The Death Eaters have left Hogwarts." _

_ "What?" Ron breathed. He had to sit down. He collapsed against the wall, numb. They had lost so much today… Fred… Harry. So many. How could they go on after this? "What do you mean?" _

_ "They left," his father told him. He sounded as lost as Ron felt, his eyes haunted, aged beyond his years. "All of them Disapparated away." _

_ "We have to check the forest," Hermione whispered. For a body, she didn't say. _

_ Whose, they didn't quite know. _

 

*

 

"Tell me, should I have his mouth or his ass?"

Ron's face was red with humiliation and anger, his fists clenched at his sides. In contrast, Harry's own placid expression was disturbing. He only watched them from his place at Voldemort’s feet, no expression on his face other than the mildest form of curiosity.

"Neither," Ron snapped, baring his teeth. Voldemort laughed, high and cruel.

"Crucio," he cast lazily, and Ron flinched, but the spell wasn't for him.

Harry cried out, his body convulsing at Voldemort's feet until he was twitching, tears falling down his face. Hermione looked away, shutting her eyes, unable to watch her friend in pain. She didn't know how long it was before Voldemort cut off the curse.

"Well?" Voldemort demanded, sounding amused. "You must decide, Mr. Weasley. One of the choices I gave you, this time."

Ron's lips thinned, stubbornly quiet, and Voldemort made a move to wave his wand once more.

"His mouth," Ron immediately blurted out. He closed his eyes, cringing. "His mouth, please."

"Hm," Voldemort mused out loud. "I thank you for your input, but I do think I would rather have his ass."

Ron's face twisted again, burning with righteous anger, and at the sight of it Voldemort's lips spread into a grotesque grin. "Since you like his mouth so much, I’ll allow you to borrow it."

Silence. And then —

"What?" Ron asked, voice raspy with shock. Voldemort laughed in glee, and with a wave of his hand, Ron's body was dragged towards his throne, towards him, towards Harry kneeling at his feet.

 

*

 

_ "He took 'Arry," Hagrid sobbed, great big tears falling down his face into his beard. His large form was wracked with his hysterical sobs, and none of them could do anything but watch him, tears in their own eyes. _

_ "He left me alive an' I'm… I'm s'pposed  to tell ya…" Hagrid faltered, choking on his words, and Hermione squeezed his hand, the barest comfort she could offer. "Tell ya that we've los'." _

_ "And Harry?" Hermione urged, and Hagrid burst into a fresh wave of heaving tears. _

_ "'Arry is his now." _

 

*

 

"Harry," Ron spoke, his voice shaking, pleading. "Mate. Don't do this."

Harry only smiled up at him, green eyes vacant and dreamy. He said nothing as his hands rose up, and with sure and practice movements, moved to pull down Ron's pants.

"Harry," Ron tried again, choking now. He could do nothing to stop his best friend, his body held imprisoned underneath Voldemort's amused red gaze, his hands twitching helplessly at his sides. He didn't want to watch this, and yet he couldn't look away. "Don't, please."

Harry paid him no mind and pulled out Ron's limp cock. Ron's face burned, humiliation and anger warring inside of him as Harry grasped him in his hand.  _ "Harry _ ," Ron begged. Voldemort _ laughed,  _ his gaze heavy and amused on the two of them.

Harry opened his mouth, and all Ron could do was squeeze his eyes shut, disgusted at the sight of his friend utterly debasing himself. Ron's breath hitched in confused pleasure and shame as wet heat surrounded him. And then —

Unbidden, his cock began to stiffen.

Ron could feel the gazes of his friends and family on his back, watching him. That should have been enough for him to soften, to override the bare pleasure he could feel. But to his mortification, he didn't, and Ron was filled with hapless anger and hatred at himself, at Voldemort—at Harry, even.

"He doesn't seem to be enjoying it, pet," Voldemort crooned, leaning in. His bone-white hand reached out and if Ron could move, he would have flinched away. But Voldemort didn't touch him, only touched the back of Harry's head, his hand coming down to grip firmly at Harry's collar. "You can do better, I know you can."

The implications of his words made his skin crawl, a sour taste in his mouth.

Harry made a soft sound of displeasure, and then with renewed enthusiasm, continued to suck Ron's cock, Voldemort's hand guiding him. It was _ good _ , Ron realized. The warmth and the heat of Harry's throat, the way his tongue and his hands stroked and caressed him — it was too much, too good for Ron who had gone years with nothing but his hand.

"Merlin," Ron cursed. "Harry, I — I can't, Harry — "

With a cut off moan, Ron felt his dick throb just as Harry pulled off. He finished on Harry's face, spilling, marking him, and Ron winced, cringing away even as Harry's eyes fluttered closed in contentment. He licked his lips and opened his eyes to smile up at Ron, eyes glazed with pleasure.

Hot embarrassment filled him, and Ron looked away, his eyes squeezing shut. Harry's smile — the way his teeth flashed into a pleased grin when he caught the Snitch, when Ron made a dumb joke, when Harry successfully cast a difficult spell in class — it was tainted now. He would never be able to look Harry in the eye after this, never see Harry smile and not think back on this moment after everything.

Maybe there wouldn't even be an  _ after _ this.

"Pet," Voldemort called, and Harry immediately pulled away. Ron almost collapsed, his knees weak. His breathing was heavy, his whole body tense, and Ron waited for Voldemort to speak, caught on the edge of a cliff he didn't want to be on.

"Friendships must be equal, don't you think?" Voldemort asked, voice cold and mocking.  Ron's blood ran cold and his eyes darted down to Harry's cock. He had avoided looking earlier, but now he couldn't. It was hard, flushed at the tip, and curving a bit. He was larger than Harry, Ron couldn't help but think, and he immediately ducked his head, ashamed that even until now he was comparing the two of them.

"Come here," Voldemort ordered, patting his lap, and at first Ron thought it was directed at him. And then Harry stood, unashamed of his nakedness even in front of all his friends. Or, what was left of them. Ginny's soft sobs rang through the room, and Ron knew most, if not all, couldn't bear to look.

Harry sat down on Voldemort's lap, his legs forced open by the thighs underneath him, Voldemort's large hand gripping his waist. Ron watched in disbelieving horror as Voldemort reached down and parted his robes to pull out his cock, just as unnaturally white as the rest of him, but still very much a human cock.

Harry didn't hesitate. He rose up and then slowly sank down with a loud moan as Voldemort's cock split him open. Ron could see everything, more than he'd ever thought he'd see of Harry.

His face burned in embarrassment as Harry threw his head back, his eyelids fluttering, his lips parting around his vocal sounds of pleasure. Voldemort shushed him, red eyes smug as Harry rested his head on Voldemort's shoulder, his mouth pressing needy, desperate kisses to Voldemort's jaw.

"Suck his cock," Voldemort said. His wand was pressed threateningly to the bottom of Harry's jaw but Harry was uncaring. He only continued to fuck himself on Voldemort's cock, thighs straining as he rode him hard and fast, the sounds of their skin meeting against each other obscene.

Ron closed his eyes and kneeled.

 

*

 

_ "Why?" Hermione whispered. "Why would he go into the forest alone? He should have known better by now than to face his problems without us." _

_ "It's Harry," Ron laughed weakly. He rubbed his face, his eyes squeezed shut. "What do you expect?" _

_ "No," Hermione shook her head, her eyebrows drawn together. "There must have been another reason." _

_ "Dumbledore," Ron said abruptly, straightening up to face her, his eyes wide. "He must know why. He must have a portrait in the Headmaster's Office." _

 

*

 

Ron wasn't sure where to place his hands. He didn't want to touch Harry any more than he had to, but the thought of having to touch Voldemort at all disgusted him even more. He finally decided on Harry's thighs.

Harry slowed down then as Ron touched him, just grinding now on Voldemort's cock instead of the punishing pace he had chosen for himself earlier. Ron looked up then, and their eyes met. Harry's eyes were suspiciously bright, a light to them that had been lacking, and for a moment, hope filled Ron's chest.

But then Harry said nothing, only reached down and grasped his cock with one hand, the other tender on Voldemort's hand at his waist. Ron's jaw tightened, unsure. Embarrassed and ashamed. His chest was cold now, his skin crawling as he tried not to retch. He could only describe it to be _kindness_ when Harry finally touched his head, his hands calloused from Quidditch, and guided Ron to his cock.

All their plans, their strategies in letting themselves get caught, the things he needed to do...It all fell away, Ron numb now as he opened his mouth and sucked his best friend's cock.

He didn't let himself think as Harry moaned and writhed in between him and their enemy, grasping his pleasure from the both of them in equal amount. Didn’t let himself think about how he was effectively kneeling before the Dark Lord in front of his family, his friends, all of them watching him.

He didn't let himself feel as Harry's cock hit the back of his throat, only outwardly gagging as he kept his eyes squeezed shut in visceral disgust.

He didn't let himself do anything at all but take it, until finally, Harry tensed, his body strung tight as he finished in Ron’s mouth.

 

*

 

_ They didn't find Dumbledore's portrait in the Headmaster's Office. Instead, they found a Pensieve filled with memories, recently disturbed by who could only be Harry. _

_ "What did he see?" Hermione whispered. What could have brought Harry to the Forest? _

_ Ron swallowed and bravely stepped forward until he was standing right in front of it. "Hermione," he said. "We need to watch." _

_ With a wavering, helpless smile, Hermione took his hand. _

_ Together, they fell into the Pensieve. _

 

*

 

"As a reward for being good, why don't you tell me who you want to spend time with? I'll let you have some privacy," Voldemort said, condescending. He talked to Harry as if he was nothing more than a simple pet and Harry took it easily with no complaints, only that same placid smile back on his face. The light in his eyes that Ron had seen had must have been a mistake. A trick of the light.

He watched, silent, the taste of Harry still in his mouth as Harry leaned in, his body an intimate curve against Voldemort's and his golden collar glinting in the light. His lips caressed the shell of Voldemort's ear as he whispered something into it that Ron couldn't hear. Voldemort smirked as he carressed Harry’s side, movement slow, a languid up and down that left Harry shivering. It was blatant show of possession. Ron never hated him more than he did now.

"The Mudblood," Voldemort announced. Ron and Hermione shared a look then. There was no judgment in his girlfriend's eyes at what she was forced to witness, at what Ron had been forced to do. There was only bone-deep tiredness from the months they had spent on the run.

She didn't complain as the rest of the Resistance was brought out of the room, to where, Ron could only guess. Before Ron left, they shared another look, and Hermione nodded.

Ron closed his eyes and looked away.

Hermione would do what needed to be done.

 

*

 

"You have kept him alive so that he can die at the right moment?... You have used me… I have spied for you and lied for you, put myself in mortal danger for you. Everything was supposed to keep Lily Potter's son safe. Now you tell me you have been raising him like a pig for slaughter…"

_ Hermione stumbled out of the Pensieve and collapsed on the floor, chest heaving, bile crawling its way up her throat. Oh god.  _ Harry _. Beside her, Ron roared in rage and punched the cabinet, splintering it with pure force. He dropped beside her and buried his face in his hands, shaking, trembling. Hermione couldn't muster up the energy to comfort him, her own mind reeling with horrified shock. _

_ They had gone to the Headmaster's Office, lost and dazed, led by some inexplicable force. Harry was gone, the Death Eaters and Voldemort with him. No one understood why they had pulled out. No one knew where Harry had gone. _

_ They had gone here looking for answers, and  _ oh _ , they had found them. _

_ They had found them, and Hermione wished they didn't. _

 

*

 

They were alone now, even Voldemort himself gone for the moment. Neither she or Ron had thought that the opportunity would present itself so quickly.

Hermione pulled out her wand from where it was hidden, tucked behind a sealing rune, and pointed it at Harry, tears pooling in her eyes.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. Harry made no move to stop her, only stared back at her with his bright green eyes. He was calm and still, and even debauched with the signs of what had just occurred, he still looked pure. Clean. Was this how he stood in front of Voldemort in the forest? Accepting of his death?

"Avada Kedavra," Hermione whispered.

Nothing happened, the spell fizzing out before it could even leave her wand.

Harry tilted his head at her, gaze unbearably soft. "You have to mean it, Hermione," he said gently. It was the first time Hermione has heard his voice in months, the only time he's spoken since they were brought before him, and she was suddenly reminded of how he was during their DA meetings in Fifth Year. 

_ ‘Try again, Hermione, _ ’ he had said with that same gentle voice when she hadn’t gotten the Patronus on her first try that year. Hermione took that memory with her, determination renewed.

"Avada Kedavra," she said again, voice louder, her hands shaking, but once more, her resolve failed her. Only the barest hints of green sparks flashed from her wand. Useless. She tightened her grip on her wand.

_ "Avada Kedavra!" _

Nothing.

Hermione sobbed out and finally, she dropped her wand, collapsing at her friend's feet. She couldn't control her tears anymore, didn't hold them back as they spilled, her loud cries echoing in Harry's gilded cage.

"Oh, Hermione," Harry said softly. "Didn't anyone tell you?"

He crouched down in front of her, and Hermione looked up, her expression wrenched in pain. Harry smiled at her pityingly.

_ "Either must die at the hands of the other,"  _ he quoted. He reached out to her and held her hands in his, gentle hands, voice sweet. “It’s alright, Hermione. You can rest now. Voldemort will take care of everything.”

Hermione swallowed, and looked down, her eyes closing in resignation and defeat. A part of her had known already, and she just hadn’t wanted to accept it.

Only Voldemort could kill Harry Potter.

And he never would.

**Author's Note:**

> :blobsweats: if i'm missing out on any tags/warnings, pls let me know.


End file.
